


We Don't Talk About Film Club

by notfreyja, Straight_Outta_Hobbiton



Series: Doubt The Stars [6]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-08 22:11:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7775572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notfreyja/pseuds/notfreyja, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton/pseuds/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Kirk has never been happier to be on Vulcan in his life. After Tarsus, R&R with Spock and Gaila was exactly what the doctor ordered.</p><p>Unfortunately, with Jim, things are never as easy as they should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And now we're getting back to the heart of the series. Enjoy these stupid kids being their beautiful selves.
> 
> The playlist for this fic can be found [here.](https://8tracks.com/starhobbit/we-don-t-talk-about-film-club#smart_id=dj:16203706)
> 
> Follow [not-freyja](https://not-freyja.tumblr.com) and [straight-outta-hobbiton](https://straight-outta-hobbiton.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Here's the playlist for the fic:  
> https://8tracks.com/starhobbit/ we-don-t-talk-about-film-club#smart_id

Spock takes one look at Jimmy’s wheelchair and a word comes unbidden to his mind. The word is a Human word, a Standard word, and it isn’t to be said in polite company. It is strongly correlated to the word ‘no’, and while Spock has never thought to use this word in any context, he feels that it wraps up every other thought in his head nicely, so those thoughts can be set aside and examined at a later date.

 

“Oh, God,  _ Jimmy _ —”

 

Amanda’s anguish is palpable, but for once, Spock ignores it, crossing the space between him and Jimmy in four long strides before stopping at his chair.

 

Jimmy, the shit, has the gall to  _ smile _ at him, to smile as if Spock can’t  _ feel _ the way he aches, from his joints to his teeth, from his stomach to his thoughts.

 

“Hey, Spock,” he greets. “You’ve talked to Gaila.”

 

“Hello, Spock.”

 

Spock glances up. Something about Gaila’s face comes across like ‘ _ he’s been like this all morning _ ’ mixed with ‘ _ do something, you moron _ ’, though Spock isn’t certain how exactly he came to this conclusion. Either way, he recognizes her exasperation and her desperation, and responds accordingly.

 

With a series of sharp, careful movements, he hefts Jimmy out of his chair and into his arms.

 

“Whoa— hey, Spock, the chair’s there for a reason—”

 

“Be silent, James,” he orders as the younger boy’s hands curl around the back of his neck. “You are too thin to have any of the illogical pride you consider Human left in you.”

 

“Noticed, huh?” Jimmy says. “It’s the newest thing, the Tarsus diet, you know—”

 

“James.”

 

“You’re angry.”

 

“I am Vulcan.”

 

“Spock, you are literally in my head.”

 

“... I am working on it.”

 

Jimmy snorts, burying his face in Spock’s robes.

 

“Sure you are.”

 

Spock turns on his heel and heads for the house. Gaila follows him, heaving her bag over her shoulder.

 

“I’ve got all of his medical supplies,” she informs him. “And his hypos. I brought extra, just in case.”

 

Spock forces his voice smoothe.

 

“That is wise of you.”

 

“It’s practical,” she agrees. “Dr. Fonseca forwarded a comprehensive list of basic care instructions to your Mother, she said, but first and foremost he’s going to need a lot of rest.”

 

“We shall provide as necessary.”

 

“I’m not leaving him.”

 

“Mother informed me of your status as a guest.”

 

“No, I don’t think you understand.” Gaila reaches out, and it’s easy for her to slip her fingers into the sleeve of his robe to claw into his forearm. “ _ I’m not leaving him _ .”

 

Spock forces down the surge of jealousy he feels as Gaila pulls her hand away, taking images of the last three months spent sharing Jimmy’s biobed with her. She is protective of him, nearly as protective as a Vulcan might be, and she refuses to be parted from him for any reason, even decorum.

 

It makes sense. Slaves are not taught proper manners— especially not the sort of slave Gaila was.

 

Spock nods stiffly.

 

“Something will be arranged,” he says. Gaila nods, because while this is not a blessing, it is agreement, and Spock is clever enough to know when he is beaten.

 

“It looks like we’ll have lots of time to get to know each other, Mr. Spock,” she grins with far too much teeth. Her smile reads as a threat. “What’s better than some good old-fashioned family bonding?”

 

Spock can think of a few things, but he doesn’t voice them.

 

Jimmy’s snort is audible anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

The first three weeks are the hardest. Spock quickly becomes used to having not one, but two bodies in his bed— the skeletal frame of the boy formerly known as Jimmy Kirk and Gaila, the overprotective, overly tactile Orion that Jimmy calls his sister.

 

Spock has not been at the receiving end of such casual touches since he was a child, untrained in the teachings of Surak. He’s never been touched like this by a stranger ever— even Jimmy has kept his touches minimal, save for the occasional grab for his wrist or brush against his arm. Or, well, he did, until now.

 

Now, Spock has gotten used to spending a lot of time in his bed, acting as one side of a bookend for a bony octopus that likes to put his elbows in all of Spock’s softest places… allegedly by accident.

 

Gaila acts as the other bookend. Logically, Spock knows her arms aren’t physically long enough to fully encircle both him and Jimmy, and yet every time he wakes, that’s what he finds.

 

Spock would prefer her gone, but Jimmy needs her, and Spock needs Jimmy to be alright.

 

So she stays. In his bed.

 

Amanda doesn’t bat an eye, and Sarek is off-planet for another few weeks, but Spock knows deep down that his Mother suspects something… untoward.

 

He is uncomfortable with the thought that his Mother might think him in some sort of cuckold with an Orion and an over exaggerated caricature of a Human— particular since he’s only met this Orion less than a month ago.

 

His Mother often forgets— as many do— that he is technically bonded. There was a reason given for his inability to bond to T’Pring, after all, and whoever his bondmate is, she will soon appear. Spock has faith in this fact.

 

Well, Humans are illogical, even ones as well-versed in the teachings of Surak as his Mother is. Eventually, she will realize her suspicions have no basis, and her careful handling of her son’s current sleeping situation will pass. Regardless of the fact that Spock’s discomfort will remain whether his mother is suspicious or not, it will relieve him greatly to know that she doesn’t think he has some sort of preference for either of the humanoids currently embedding crumbs into the careful weave of his sheets as they argue over plot devices and the true genius of the ancient Terran Alfred Hitchcock.

 

Probably.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Jimmy’s stomach now walks a tightrope that Gaila can’t quite wrap her head around. See, he needs to eat— he needs to regain his strength, put on a little weight, undo the damage that months of starvation has done to him, and just have a little bit of plain old comfort food. At the same time, her slightly-bigger brother isn’t allowed to eat  _ anything _ .

 

What kind of bullshit is that?

 

He’s stuck on soft foods and the occasional slice of nutritional, healthy, good-for-you-but-tastes-like-shit slice of replicated bread. It’s not like his teeth have rotted out  _ completely _ (though he’s going to have to have a few replaced when he’s feeling better), and really, it’s impolite to point out people’s weaknesses, or at least idiotic. Jimmy could take down every Vulcan healer that’s visited so far with a touch, if he wanted to. He’s going easy on them, if anything. He just keeps quiet and withdrawn and takes it out on Gaila and Spock when they leave in the form of fucked up documentaries and bio pics.

 

She hates Spock for ever having asked about Judaism after Jimmy’s commentary on _ The Pianist _ .

 

“They did that to us,” he says when Władek is moved to the ghetto. “Me, and Aunt Sylvie, and Brona and Rachel and Derek were all in this little one bedroom, because Aunt Sylvie was in a wheelchair and the kids were all too little to work. They would’ve kept me in the main town, but all my allergies made it too hard to keep me alive.”

 

Gaila tries to turn the holo off, stomach churning. Jimmy slaps her hand away.

 

“No. I wanna watch.”

 

He continues along this strain, revisiting a few favorites until Gaila can recite every line of  _ Watchmen _ and  _ Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee _ . Sometimes, he’ll go easy, and they’ll watch  _ Rabbit Proof Fence _ or  _ Psycho _ , but those aren’t much better. Jimmy takes to comparing Kodos and his death squads to the characters.

 

Gaila and Spock find themselves bonding with shared looks over Jimmy’s blond head and the routine of convincing Jimmy to take a nap or eat some of his weird nutrient pudding. It’s a weird thing to base a relationship on, but it teaches Gaila two things.

 

One, Jimmy’s a pain in the ass. She never realized that when she was on his side, but he is, especially when he’s horribly ill and actually needs to listen to the grown ups.

 

Two, he’s hopelessly in love with his Vulcan penpal, and if she’s not mistaken, Spock is maybe a little bit in love back. Or at least possessive.  _ Very _ possessive. Like, ‘she’s lucky he’s putting up with her in his space’ possessive, or ‘she’s only allowed in because Jimmy wants her there’ possessive. After the first few weeks, she figures out pretty damn quickly that the former is completely dependent on the latter, and if Jimmy says the word, she’s going to need a ride back to Aunt Krisy’s, stat.

 

So far, though, nothing she’s done has actually pissed him off, and Spock’s warming up to her, just a little bit. Sometimes, when Jimmy’s asleep, they’ll even talk to each other.

 

“Daddy’s family is pretty musical,” she tells him. “Aunt Krisy and Auntie Ida met when they were playing some festival in New Toronto, and all my new cousins play music and are in bands and stuff.”

 

“It appears you enjoy your new home,” Spock remarks, idly carding his fingers through Jimmy’s hair.

 

“It was a little overwhelming,” she admits. “There’s so many people in the house. So many  _ boys _ . The schools are co-ed, you know— it’s completely normal, on Earth.”

 

“It is also a common practice on Vulcan,” Spock says. “Is that not so on Orion?”

 

Gaila shrugs.

 

“I wouldn’t know. Before this year, I never had any formal education.”

 

“Truly?”

 

“Never. No need, you know? I was just supposed to be— well, you know the story.”

 

“... Indeed. It did not occur to me that it would impact your schooling, however. An oversight on my part.”

 

“It’s okay. Most people don’t think about those sorts of things.” Gaila shifts slightly. “I was better off than they thought I was though, thanks to Jim. He taught me a little bit of Standard writing, and then we went and looked up the Orion alphabet, so I know some of that, too, which is awesome.”

 

“Mother says it is good to remember one’s culture,” Spock says, then pauses. “... You called him Jim.”

 

Gaila bites her lip.

 

“He was all twitchy the whole trip here,” she admits quietly. “And when people called him Jimmy… I know it seems like he’s telling us a lot, but I think he talks so much to hide stuff, you know?”

 

Spock looks like he understands exactly what she’s getting at, so she continues.

 

“He has bad memories about being called Jimmy now. I don’t think he likes it anymore.”

 

Spock thinks about that for a moment.

 

“I agree with you,” he says. “Jim is a suitable change. I will keep it in mind.”

 

“You should keep calling him James, though,” Gaila adds quickly. “He seems to like it when you do that.”

 

He doesn’t answer her then, but she figures he doesn’t need to.

 

Spock gets it.


	3. Chapter 3

“We will not be watching The Pianist again,” Spock says sharply when Jim— not Jimmy, Jim— reaches for the holoplayer. “Choose something else, something preferably not about murder.”

 

Jim’s brow furrows.

 

“What— why not? It’s an awesome holovid.”

 

“Gaila has been having nightmares,” Spock says, ignoring the way the girl flushes emerald and opens her mouth to protest. “And as she is a tactile sleeper, I have been privy to several of them. Choose another movie, James.”

 

Jim blinks, then turns to Gaila.

 

“Nightmares? What are you having nightmares for?”

 

Gaila blinks.

 

“Are you serious?”

 

“Yeah, I’m serious. What’s the  _ matter _ with you today?”

 

Gaila gapes at him. “Are you kidding me?” She turns to Spock, “He’s kidding, right?”

 

Jim scoffs. “What do  _ you  _ have to be so upset about.”

 

In one fluid motion, Gaila rises to her feet, turns on her heels, and slaps Jim across the face.

 

“You’re an asshole.”

 

Jim shoots a helpless glance at Spock. Spock has no idea why— it’s not like he has any experience in matters like this.

 

“Gaila! Whoa, what was that for?”

 

“Out of all the people I know, James Kirk...” and their tears building at the corners of her eye, and from what Spock has come to learn of the Orion, this does not bode well. “I thought you at least would know me better than this.”

 

“Gaila, I didn’t—”

 

“They took me too, you know.” She’s crying now, but her voice is cold. “Men like that, they came and they took me. I was four years old. And I was scared, and alone, and I spent the next eight years a slave _ ,  _ Jim. When we met, I thought I finally had something real. But the second something happens to you the whole universe stops, right? Forget about me, right? Gaila’s just  _ fine  _ right?”

 

“Gaila—”

 

But she doesn’t listen, instead turning on her heel and stalking out of the room. Jim goes to follow her, but he just can’t get his legs to lift him up.

 

“Spock.”

 

He sounds so defeated.

 

“I will speak with her.”

 

The Vulcan stands and leaves Jim in the living room. His mother has taught him that sometimes, humans need to be alone.

 

Orions, however, require companionship. That much he has learned from Gaila.

 

Alone in the dark living room, Jim buries his face in his knees and takes deep breaths, trying to ease the tightness in his chest.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Sarek knows that James Tiberius Kirk is in his house. He knows that James has had a difficult year, and that his adopted sister is staying with him while he recuperates on Vulcan. He knows that Amanda is concerned for his health.

 

He did not know that it would be this bad. The despair that permeates through the house is… disturbing.

 

Amanda has gone to the market, as is her usual routine on the third day of the week. He cannot find Spock, and it appears the Orion girl has slipped away somewhere as well, leaving the source of the house’s unrest alone in the dark of the living room.

 

While he is quite capable of making his way through the darkness without aid, it is perhaps unsafe for an unsteady, physically weak Human settled on the other side of the room.

 

“Lights, forty percent.”

 

The darkness recedes to something more like twilight, startling the boy curled up on the floor in front of a dark holoplayer.

 

“Oh. Hello, Ambassador.”

 

Sarek blinks. James has changed, his features sharpened with starvation and growth spurts, his hair overlong and lighter than he remembers. But the changes don’t stop in the physical, not at all. James has never been a happy child. He’s been pleased, content, proud… but he’s never truly felt  _ happy _ , not like Human children are. His mind has always been too mature for that sort of innocence.

 

Now, though… now, James is nothing like himself. There is only anger, and despair, and fear, all blended together and squeezing the roots that make James different from every other sentient creature Sarek has ever met.

 

“Good evening, James,” he greets. “Why were you sitting in the dark?”

 

James looks huffs. He might’ve meant to laugh.

 

“I did not notice it had gotten dark,” he explains. “I was lost in my thoughts.”

 

A Human expression, one that translates remarkably well into Vulcan. Sarek thinks about that for a moment.

 

“Your emotions are strong,” he says after a moment, stepping towards the boy. “They project throughout the house.”

 

“... Sorry.”

 

“There is no need to apologize. I have been informed of your situation. It is quite natural.” He hazards another step. James looks away, chin balanced on his knees.

 

Sarek feels a spike of discomfort. The look in his eyes, the curve of his shoulders, his place on the floor… all of it is reminiscent of a much younger Spock, before he learned to process his emotions properly and keep them from touching the near-perfect order of his mind.

 

He settles onto the couch nearest to James.

 

“You have been through a great tragedy,” Sarek says. “I would be disturbed if you appeared healthy and whole.”

 

James sniffs.

 

“I am tired,” he says, and Sarek really doesn’t know how the boy manages to put so much feeling into the Vulcan language. “I am  _ tired _ .”

 

Sarek is still wearing the gloves he keeps specifically for diplomatic events on the planets of more tactile species. They are the only reason he even thinks to reach out and touch James’ bony shoulder.

 

“Then logically, you should rest.”

 

James laughs hoarsely, but it doesn’t sound quite right. He starts to tremble under Sarek’s hand, and— oh.

 

Sarek has never done well with tears. Amanda hasn’t cried since her pregnancy that he can recall, and Spock’s occasional childish losses of control were usually handled by his Mother. Regardless, the Human needs someone, and his companions are nowhere to be found.

 

Though James is substantially older than Spock was the last time he’d properly burst into tears, Sarek draws from that particularly harrowing memory. Spock had been six, and informed by a classmate that his humanity made him ineligible to complete the Kolinahr, a goal of his at the time. Sarek thinks on that moment, studies that memory, and acts accordingly, lifting James from the ground and placing him on his lap.

 

There’s a moment where James goes completely stiff, surprised by Sarek’s actions, but it is only a moment, quickly overtaken by the way James curls his fingers in the fabric of Sarek’s traveling robes and buries his face in his shoulder. He sobs openly then, entire body shaking with the strength of his anguish. Instinctively, Sarek wraps his arms around the Human cautiously, partially because Humans need physical comfort when distressed and partially because the sobs that wrack James’ body are strong enough to warrant the concern that he may dislodge himself from his current position.

 

They remain in that position for approximately thirty-three point four minutes, long enough for Amanda to return home and find them. She doesn’t prove helpful in the matter— simply smiling encouragingly at him from the doorway before disappearing back into the hall.

 

Sarek loves this woman.

  
That does not mean she isn’t vexing.


	4. Chapter 4

“Are you… that is a superfluous question. You are obviously not well.”

 

Gaila doesn’t look up from her shoes. Spock exhales sharply— he never sighs.

 

“I wish I could express to you the love he has shared with me for you,” he says. “It is almost as if it were my own.”

 

“... Thought Vulcans didn’t feel emotions.”

 

“We do not,” Spock agrees. “Because we are logical creatures, who have learned to process such instinctive responses logically, and therefore need not feel them. Despite this, James— even Human— has a strong mind, and no interest in the least in controlling his emotional outbursts. I admit to being affected through our mental link.”

 

Gaila sighs.

 

“I know he didn’t mean it,” she says softly. “I know he’s wrapped up in his crap, but— it’s not like him.”

 

“Something was fractured, on Tarsus,” Spock says, taking the seat beside her after a moment’s hesitance. “He will never be exactly as he was, and he is aware of this. He has lashed out often since you both came to Vulcan. This is simply another instance of such behavior.”

 

“It’s messed up.”

 

“We are in agreement.” He straightens his shirt. “I believe it is time to begin correcting such behavior, lest it become habit.”

 

“Oh? How so?”

 

“There are multiple psychological studies that have been published on the subject of breaking bad habits,” he says. “If you like, I can forward them to your PADD.”

 

Gaila snorts and finally looks up, brushing the wild tangle of her hair behind one shoulder.

 

“You know, I think you might have made a joke, right there.”

 

“I did no such thing,” Spock replies, the picture of Vulcan serenity. “Though I cannot control if you derive humor from my statement.”

 

Gaila giggles and leans into Spock side. There’s a pause, then Spock gingerly loops an arm around her shoulders.

 

“James is... trouble,” he says.

 

“Yeah, but we’re stuck with him.”

 

“Correct.”

 

Gaila sighs.

 

“We should go back to him.”

 

“In a moment. My father is with him now.”

 

“Oh? How’s that going?”

 

“I believe it is going… well.”

 

“... Why don’t I believe you?”

  
  


*.*

  
  


Sarek:

Sybok, I believe your help is required at this juncture.

 

Sybok:

Help? With what?

 

Sarek:

You have been made aware of our houseguests.

 

Sybok:

Yes.

If you are inquiring as to a proper mindhealer, I cannot help you. My specialization has been changed to behaviors of bonded pairs and the effects on non-Vulcans.

 

Sarek:

Exactly.

 

Sybok:

So you have realized his bond with Jimmy is greater than you initially believed it to be? Did he inform you of it?

 

Sarek:

No. He shows no sign of understanding the truth of his bond.

 

Sybok:

Then how did you figure it out?

 

Sarek:

He referred to James’ adoptive sister as ko-kal.

 

Sybok:

Shit.

And he did not catch the slip?

 

Sarek:

Your persistent use of Human slang does not translate well.

No, he did not realize his error.

I fear he may be affected by James’ tragedy more than originally believed. I hypothesize that they both require a healer with a working knowledge of their bond.

Amanda has informed me of your dissertation topic.

 

Sybok:

Understood. Let me just wrap up what I have going on here, and I will return home.

 

Sarek:

Sybok, the imprecision of your language is concerning.

 

Sybok:

Live long and prosper, Father.

 

Sarek:

Peace and long life, Sybok.

  
  


*.*

  
  


It’s been five months since Jim came to Vulcan, and two months since Sybok came to help. Sybok’s help is a weird, sort of intrusive help— a mixture of therapy, mind melds, and forced trips outside.

 

Like today.

 

“Go explore,” are his orders. “You’ll be weak as a baby Sehlat if you don’t start exercising.”

 

“But it’s  _ hot _ .”

 

“It’s always hot,” Sybok retorts. “Go outside and play. Humans play.”

 

“... You’ve never sounded more Vulcan than in this moment,” Jim informs him wryly.

 

“Sarek will be pleased to hear that. Now.  _ March _ .”

 

Jim rolls his eyes but does as he’s told. Despite his domineering, somewhat nosy nature, Sybok’s grown on Jim, enough so that every once in a while, Jim will actually listen to him. Obviously, he’s no Number One, but sometimes, it’s almost like having a brother.

 

“You too, Lala,” he says, glancing at Gaila. “You’ve been stuck in the house almost as much as Jim.”

 

Gaila gets up more readily— but then, she’s never actually been on Vulcan before. She isn’t aware of the fact that it’s more orange sand than planet.

 

“If you like, you may accompany me for my exams,” Spock offers. “After I have completed them, we may visit the Shi’kahr market.”

 

“Exams?”

 

“Indeed.”

 

Jim frowns.

 

“You’ve been taking classes?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“When?”

 

“I require three less hours of sleep than a Human,” Spock informs him. “Four less than an Orion. I prefer to use my waking hours in a productive manner.”

 

“How long’s your exam going to take?” Gaila asks.

 

“No longer than two hours.”

 

Gaila looks at Jim.

 

“We’ll bring the holoplayer.”

 

Jim clicks his tongue.

 

“Okay, fine.”

 

Sybok grins as the children go to change. With tactics like those, Spock is going to make one hell of a diplomat, one day.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Spock’s exam takes two hours on the dot, which means by noon, they’re in the city proper.

 

Jimmy’s eyes are as big as saucers as he stares around the market. He’s never seen so many Vulcans, or shops, or  _ anything _ — besides Tarsus, he’s only ever spent his time planetside on outposts or in Spock’s house. It’s  _ amazing _ — everything’s so colorful, and loud, and fast in a way that isn’t quite warp six but sure as hell seems like it.

 

He darts from stall to stall, trying to take it all in at once. Touching everything, chattering brightly at the Vulcans that stare back uncomprehendingly. Gaila’s excitement is similar, though she takes it slow, stopping and actually looking at the things that catch her eye.

 

Spock stays with her. He can find Jim if need be.

 

“Oh, this is _ beautiful _ ,” he hears Gaila gasp from somewhere behind him. He turns to find her standing before a stall of beautifully crafted instruments, one hand hovering over a glass box.

 

Spock moves to stand beside her.

 

“A pish’ok-tah,” he remarks. “Similar to a Terran banjo. Sybok used to play.”

 

The pish’ok-tah is of simple design, as far as Vulcan musical instruments go, made up of a stout, rounded body and a long, curved neck. Nine strings, all pinned at different points of the neck, stretch down to the lowest point of the body, looping into the hollow crevice and back out through the slit at the base. It is a remnant of pre-reform Vulcan history, one of the brighter points.

 

“It’s my favorite,” Gaila says. “I want it.”

 

“You have an interest in music?”

 

She nods.

 

“They taught us how to entertain,” she explains. “Back then. And the Pikes are crazy about music, remember? They’re teaching me all sorts of things, but I haven’t quite found a good fit.”

 

She sighs.

 

“This is really beautiful, though. I bet it sounds so pretty.”

 

Spock nods thoughtfully.

 

“If you like it, I will purchase it for you,” he says.

 

Gaila’s eyes go wide.

 

“Oh, Spock—”

 

“Do you want the pish’ok-tah?” He interrupts.

 

“I— well, yeah—”

 

“Then I will purchase it,” he says with a nod, turning to the woman behind the counter. Gaila watches in helpless shock as he makes the transaction in Vulcan.

 

“Thank you, Spock,” she says meekly when the instrument— safe in a travel case— is pressed into her hands.

 

“Far be it from me to hinder your pursuit of cultural exchange,” he says. “I am sure Sybok would be willing to teach you the basics, in fact—”

 

He stops, turning to stare out in the direction Jim had disappeared.

 

“Spock? What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing, I think.” He looks back at her. “We must find James.”

 

“Oh, crap.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


They find Jim talking animatedly with a pretty Vulcan girl at the far end of the market, half-hidden by the wall of a public rock garden. The contrast is staggering, between the two. She stands stiff and elegant, face obscured by the shadow of one of the rock formations, while Jim is all loose movement and wide-mouthed words. Spock hasn’t seen him smile like that in a long while, and for a moment, jealousy overtakes him.

 

And then, she turns, one eyebrow arching as she catches sight of Spock.

 

He stops at Jim’s side, nodding slightly at the girl.

 

“T’Pring,” he greets.

 

“Spock,” she returns. “Jim was just speaking of his stay with you. I was unaware you had connections off-planet.”

 

“It has never proved relevant,” he says. “James, what did you do?”

 

Jim smoothes his face into something soft, almost innocent.

 

“What makes you think I did anything?” he asks, tilting his head in false curiosity.

 

Spock arches an eyebrow as Gaila cuts in.

 

“Because you  _ always _ do something.”

 

“Oh, come on—” he looks to Spock for help. Spock only arches an eyebrow in response, leaving Jim to huff dramatically.

 

“Whatever. How do you two know each other?”

 

Spock glances at T’Pring.

 

“We are classmates,” he explains.

 

“You must be Jim’s adoptive sister,” T’Pring remarks, focusing on the Orion. “Do you play?”

 

Gaila blinks.

 

“Oh! No— not yet.” She smiles shyly. “Spock only just bought it for me.”

 

“Then you will need music,” T’Pring remarks. “And a tutor.”

 

“I believe my brother will be willing to help her in her studies,” Spock says stiffly. “While he did not continue with instrument, he has a grasp of the basic chord structure that will be suitable to her purposes.”

 

“That is logical,” she says. “Would you like any practice music? I have several files on the subject.”

 

“I—”

 

“My inquiry has not yet been answered,” Spock says. “James has not explained what he has done.”

 

Jim rolls his eyes.

 

“It was nothing, really,” he says. “Just some younger boys were being rude to Mr. T’Pring here, and I scared them away.”

 

“How.”

 

Jim shrugs.

 

“I tripped.”

 

“You tripped.”

 

“Yeah. And on my way down, I might have grabbed onto whatever was closest— in this instance, it was one of the boys.”

 

Oh. Spock understands now.

 

“I imagine it was accidental if you managed to touch them.”

 

“Oh, of course.”

 

“I have never seen a Vulcan react so violently to another mind before,” T’Pring says. “It was quite fascinating, particularly when he collapsed..”

 

Spock fixes Jim with a disapproving look.

 

“You know it is frowned upon to touch a Vulcan without permission.”

 

“Yeah— but he was being a dick. He deserved a little something to shut him up.”

 

The statement makes Spock suspicious, but before he can say anything, T’Pring chimes in.

 

“I have asked Jim if he would be willing to do something similar with me,” she says. “Torik collapsed with a touch. I do not wish to be so vulnerable to emotional attack.”

 

“... Emotional attack. I have never heard the term.”

 

“It appears to be a Human creation— or, at least, Jim’s.” T’Pring tilts her head to one side, watching Jim curiously. “But it is only a matter of time before someone takes advantage of such an obvious weakness. I wish to be prepared.”

 

“I do not think that would be wise, T’Pring—”

 

“And I was just saying that I totally would help her,” Jim interrupts, grinning brightly.

 

Spock stares.

 

“Are you sure, James?”

 

“Oh, most definitely— I’ve gotta build up my connections, you know, and T’Pring here—” he gestures at the Vulcan girl. “Is going to be on the Council one day.”

 

T’Pring dips her chin in concurrence, because of course she’s going to be on the Council.

 

“A logical decision for a future Starfleet official,” she says. “Spock, Gaila, you are welcome to come with us to my home. Jim and I would like to work out the terms of our agreement, and he also has expressed an interest in showing me a classic Terran holovid.”

 

“She seems like a  _ Mr. and Mrs. Smith  _ kind of girl, doesn’t she?” Jim says. “She could definitely be Angelina Jolie.”

 

“I believe I have not yet been subjected to that film,” Spock informs him.

 

Jim winces at the flush of irritation that echoes through his head. His smile doesn’t slip, though.

 

“Oh, well, then it’ll be an all-around good time,” he says cheerfully. “‘Cause I know Gaila hasn’t seen it yet, either.”

 

He turns to T’Pring, offering her an exaggerated bow.

 

“Lead the way.”

 

T’Pring stares at him for a long moment, then turns.

 

“Come.”

 

Jim’s made a new friend. A new friend who is willing to watch a holo with him.

 

Spock resigns himself to yet another unorthodox companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! The instrument Spock buys Gaila isn't in Trek canon, but I felt like she wouldn't play the lyre, so now she has a Vulcan banjo.


	5. Chapter 5

Spock is acting… weird.

 

Jim can’t quite put his finger on how, exactly, but there’s something off about their link, like someone put a rubber cap over Spock’s end of their permanent conversation. Every now and then, Jim can feel it shift, like something’s trying to knock it out of place.

 

It’s a very strange feeling.

 

T’Pring is doing pretty well in their practice sessions— she’s only collapsed the once, the very first time he took her by surprise. It’s like a game, now, grabbing ahold of her when she least expects it. It’s makes Stonn— her bondmate— uncomfortable, which in turn cheers Jim up.

 

Stonn has a stick up his butt, he’s learned quite quickly.

 

He doesn’t assault her with anything from Tarsus— he keeps that to himself. Instead, he uses other stuff. The fear he felt when he was stuck in the matter-antimatter reactor, the desperate misery he’d felt the only time he’d ever truly angered Pike. Everything he felt over the course of the water main incident.

 

There are a lot of things to draw upon besides Tarsus, and remembering those situations— which are almost comical in retrospect— does wonders for his mood.

 

Well, that, and messing with Stonn. That’s probably the most fun he’s had since Gaila was still on board— three cheers for genocidal maniacs!

 

But anyway, Spock is acting weird, and Jim needs to get to the bottom of this.

 

“So anyway,” he starts about two weeks into his continued acquaintance with T’Pring. “You guys said you’re all in school together, right?”

 

Spock is sitting on his left side, T’Pring on his right. They’re watching Gaila attempt to bully Stonn into teaching her the Vulcan neck pinch. He looks so flustered (now  _ that’s _ a look for a Vulcan) that she might actually win.

 

“That is correct,” Spock says tightly. He says everything tightly around T’Pring and Stonn. Jim would like to thank peer pressure for that load of bull.

 

“But, like, you guys seem to know each other better than just classmates.”

 

“Yes.”

 

T’Pring likes to yank Jim’s chain. She knows what he’s asking without asking.

 

“So, how do you guys know each other? Besides school, I mean.”

 

There’s a pause.

 

“Spock and I were meant to be bonded,” T’Pring admits after a moment. “But the bond did not take.”

 

Jim’s brow furrows.

 

“Bonding? I thought that just, y’know,  _ happened _ .”

 

“A _ telsu _ bond such as ours is spontaneous,” Spock explains. “And on occasion an extemporaneous marriage bond may form, but for most of Vulcan society, it is preferred that such serious bonds are based on mental compatibility and logical partnerships rather than random chance.”

 

T’Pring has stiffened beside him. She is quite pointedly not looking in Jim’s direction.

 

“An initial bond of marriage is made between Vulcan children at the age of seven,” Spock continues. “And is reinforced throughout the years through regular mental contact. I, however, bonded prematurely, and have yet to have a knowledgeable interaction with my bondmate.”

 

“... So you’re saying you don’t know who your bondmate is.”

 

“Negative. She has yet to reveal herself to me.”

 

“That sucks.”

 

T’Pring still isn’t looking at them, apparently fascinated by Gaila’s attempts to put Stonn in a headlock.

 

“Hey, didn’t I meet you when you were like, seven?” Jim asks, frowning. “I was like, four or five, right?”

 

“We were acquainted approximately three months before my failed bonding ceremony with T’Pring,” Spock says, and rubber cap or not, Jim knows he’s uncomfortable talking about this. “We have known each other nine years, seven months, and fourteen days.”

 

“Hey, our anniversary’s coming up, then.” Jim grins. “Ten years, we should do something special— oh.”

 

Yeah,  _ oh _ , because right then, it clicks. 

 

Jim met Spock right before his bonding with T’Pring. The bond didn’t take. T’Pring won’t  _ look _ at him— or Spock, come to think of it.

 

“James? Are you quite alright?”

 

Jim looks up. Spock’s eyes— Human eyes, eyes that always give him away— are concerned, one eyebrow arched questioningly.

 

Jim tacks on a smile.

 

“Yeah, Spock— just realized something, that’s all.” Now that Jim thinks about it, it’s obvious. Spock doesn’t like Jim’s constant interactions with T’Pring. He’s  _ jealous _ of Jim touching her, of her touching Jim.

 

That probably explains the cap, then. He doesn’t want Jim to know— but why? If he had just  _ told _ Jim— unless he’s worried. That would make sense. Spock has always had odd moments of hesitation when it comes to telling Jim things, after all, and this is a big thing to keep a secret for so long—

 

Except, he doesn’t know. Didn’t he just say that he didn’t know who his bondmate was? If that’s the case, then why is trying to shut Jim out? It’s not like— what?

 

Sometimes, Spock is so emotionally constipated even Jim can’t work out what he’s trying to do.

 

Carefully, so Spock can’t see, he slides a hand up the wide sleeve of T’Pring’s robe and grasps at the skin above her wrist. He projects one thought, as loudly as he can.

 

_ Holy shit _ .

 

It takes a second— telepathic communication is always harder when it isn’t done with a proper meld or  _ through a bond _ — but a few seconds later, Jim’s thought/feeling is answered with something that has the distinct tang of  _ fucking finally _ .

 

It almost makes him smile. No matter what anyone tells him, he knows deep in his heart that T’Pring is the most sarcastic, exasperated, put-upon Vulcan in the entire galaxy.

 

And he knows Spock.

 

With his suspicions confirmed, he lets go and gets to his feet.

 

“I feel like we should help Stonn out,” he announces. “Gaila might actually kick his ass if he doesn’t stop acting like she’s made of glass.”

 

“Vulcan strength might cause irreparable damage should he in fact use his full capability,” T’Pring says. “But I believe you may be right.”

 

“‘Course I am,” Jim says. “I’m always right— eventually. Spock, are you gonna help me?”

 

“If I must.” But Spock’s already strolling over to where Gaila has managed to pin Stonn to the ground, leaving Jim and T’Pring behind in his wake.

 

Jim turns to T’Pring.

 

“So, did I get spontaneously married to a moron, or am I the moron for not realizing I got spontaneously married?”

 

T’Pring blinks.

 

“You are not Vulcan,” she says. “It is not surprising you did not recognize the signs immediately. There is no excuse for Spock’s apparent obliviousness to the situation.”

 

Jim sighs.

 

“I’m married to a moron.”

 

T’Pring arches an eyebrow. If she were Human, she’d be grinning.

 

“Take comfort,” she says. “He is half-human. It is almost an excuse.”

 

Jim makes a face.

 

“Watch it, T’Pring. Apparently that’s my husband you’re talking about.”

 

T’Pring’s eyebrow climbs higher.

 

“You will make a suitable wife for him,” she decides. “You are nearly as territorial as any Vulcan.”

 

Jim shakes his head and turns away.

 

He needs to talk to Gaila, and in order to do this, he must save Stonn from their impromptu wrestling match.

 

And maybe Spock, if the look in Gaila’s eyes is anything to go by.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Gaila comms T’Pring the next day and asks for a girl’s day. T’Pring isn’t quite sure what that means, but she agrees, and thirty minutes later, Gaila appears on her doorstep, for once without either Jim or Spock.

 

“So, Jim’s married,” she says as T’Pring leads her inside.

 

T’Pring doesn’t falter.

 

“Yes.”

 

“He’s been married— probably— for ten years.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How did neither of them realize this?”

 

T’Pring has been wondering about that very same thing from the moment Spock and Jim were within sight of each other.

 

“I do not know,” she says simply. “I was unable as to inquire about the situation to ascertain a proper answer.”

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“It is considered rude to speak of the bonds of others unless the bonds are made public. Bonds are a private matter.”

 

Gaila sighs dramatically and flops onto the nearest chair.

 

“Those boys are a mess.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

“So, does Spock know?” she asks.

 

“Only if Jim informed him of his realization. Based on his secretive manner, I find it unlikely, unless Spock realized it himself.” T’Pring pauses. “This is also unlikely.”

 

“Oh, Jesus,” Gaila mutters. Out loud, she says, “I guess it breaches Vulcan protocol to tell Spock to pull his head out of his ass.”

 

“I do not believe his head has ever been so close to his anal cavity, nor do I wish to be burdened with that image.”

 

Gaila snickers.

 

“Sorry. What I mean is, I can’t point it out.”

 

“You could, in theory,” T’Pring says. “You are not Vulcan, and such a breach of decorum would not be so unsurprising, particularly coming from an overly tactile Orion. However, I believe at this juncture it would not be wise. Spock is highly sensitive to the social stigmas of his status as a hybrid child, and any breach of decorum may lead to drastic action on his part.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Quite frankly, having a Human bondmate on top of his half-Human heritage may be considered intolerable by him. Spock may ask to have the bond broken.”

 

“... That would be bad.”

 

“It would certainly be painful,” T’Pring agrees. “Jim’s mind may not survive it if Spock were to go through with such actions. I believe it is better for them both if Spock recognizes the bond in his own time.”

 

“Spock would never hurt Jim like that,” Gaila objects sharply. “He loves him, one way or another.”

 

“Perhaps. But Vulcan emotions are strong, and therefore highly regulated. Should he lose control, his self-disgust may overtake his love for his bondmate, and he may not care.”

 

The Orion is quiet for a moment.

 

“I don’t think that will happen,” she says after a moment. “I think that’s a worst case scenario.”

 

“Yes. But all potential scenarios must be taken into account before making such a decision.”

 

“... Yeah.”

 

T’Pring senses her distress, her confusion and sadness and exasperation. Even at this distance, it is not comfortable.

 

“I believe we shall move on to a different topic of discussion,” she says decisively. “Several days ago you expressed interest in introducing me to classical Terran music.”

 

Gaila smiles slightly.

 

“I did, didn’t I?” she says after a moment, sitting up. “Well, there’s lots of it— I think we should start by genre— or do you wanna go by time period?”

 

“As you like.”

 

“T’Pring, you shouldn’t have said that.” Gaila’s eyes glitter with mischief. “Let’s start you off with something easy… have you ever heard of the Sex Pistols?”

  
  


*.*

  
  


Gaila is at T’Pring’s house and Spock is off somewhere with Sybok, leaving Jim with a rare moment alone.

 

Being alone is boring, so Jim decides it’s the perfect time to ask some questions.

 

“Lady Amanda, do you have a minute?”

 

“Of course, Jim.”

 

Lady Amanda’s office is a mixture of Human clutter and Vulcan organization, almost like she couldn’t leave behind Human mess but couldn’t help but pick up some Vulcan habits, either. She’s half-distracted by some whirring machine that takes up half her desk, but she looks up to smile he closes the door behind him.

 

“Anything wrong, Jim?”

 

“Just fine.” Jim takes a seat in one of the squashy, definitely not Vulcan-made armchairs. He rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Um, would you mind answering a few questions for me?”

 

There must be something off about the way he asks, considering the way Amanda suddenly feels the need to set down her notes and focus on him properly.

 

“I don’t mind at all,” she says, and there’s an odd look in her eye when she circles the desk to take the other chair. “What sort of questions are they?”

 

“... Questions about… Vulcan marriage.” He crosses his arms, noting the way that she leans forward at the words. “I… I think me and Spock are married.”

 

There’s a beat of silence, and then suddenly, Amanda relaxes.

 

“Oh, thank God,” she breathes, sitting back. “I thought you two would never figure it out— I was so afraid you two would hurt yourselves, you have no idea—”

 

“Lady Amanda?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Spock hasn’t figured it out yet.”

 

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Amanda sighs. “Well, you’re the one I was more worried about, anyway. How much do you know about Vulcan bondmates, Jim?”

 

Jim blinks.

 

“Not much.”

 

“Okay. Well, let’s start at the beginning— we’ll go through everything T’Pau told me about it, and then the things I found out she didn’t tell me.”

 

“I—” Jim pauses. “Do we have time for that kind of talk?”

 

“I’ll message Sybok,” Amanda says. “He’ll keep Spock busy awhile. Gaila’s visiting T’Pring, correct?”

 

“Yeah— wait, does Sybok know about this marriage thing?”

 

“Jim, honey,  _ everybody _ knows about this marriage bond thing,” Amanda tells him apologetically. “Even Sarek got there eventually.”

 

Jim buries his face in his hands.

 

“Oh my  _ God _ , this is so awkward.”

 

Amanda snorts.

 

“It’s about to get worse,” she informs him. “We’re going to be talking about the Vulcan birds and bees.”

 

Jim’s groan is muffled by his hands, but Amanda doesn’t bother to muffle her laughter.

 

He’s in for a long afternoon.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Amanda:

Jim figured out they’re married. Keep Spock occupied.

 

Sybok:

Really? Jim got it before Spock? I’m almost ashamed of my brother.

 

Amanda:

I find that obliviousness runs in the family, Sybok.

 

Sybok:

I guess I’m lucky I lean towards my mother’s disposition.

 

Amanda:

You’re just a late bloomer.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Amanda:

Jim figured it out.

 

Winona:

Figured what out?

 

Amanda:

That he’s married.

 

Winona:

Really?

Damn, looks like I owe you fifty credits.

 

Amanda:

Indeed you do.


	6. Chapter 6

“Sam, what are you doing here?”

 

Jim sounds surprised to see him, and of course he is. He’s spent nearly a year without any Kirks at all— unless you count Gaila, apparently.

 

Who, come to think of it, he has yet to meet.

 

“Mom called me like, a month ago,” he says. “Said you got into some shit and were recouping on Vulcan.”

 

Jim arches an eyebrow— he’s spent too much time on Vulcan.

 

“A month ago?  _ Seriously? _ ”

 

Sam shrugs.

 

“You know how she is. Anyway, I figured I’d finish out the semester and come see you for your birthday.”

 

“Oh. Cool.”

 

“Yeah… didn’t Lady Amanda say anything? She knew I was coming.”

 

“Maybe. I only just got back like, twenty minutes ago. Me and my friends spent the week in Vulcana Regar, so yeah.”

 

Sam snorts.

 

“Wait, when did you get friends?”

 

“Aw, Sammy, that’s mean. I’ve got lots of friends.”

 

“Really? Name three.”

 

“Gaila—”

 

“Who’s apparently our sister. Thanks for the heads up on that, by the way—”

 

“Spock, Number One—”

 

“Does Number One count as a friend?”

 

“And then my new friends, T’Pring and Stonn, even if Stonn doesn’t consider himself a friend back.” Jim grins. “He’s going to consider himself a friend soon. I’ve decided.”

 

“Oh. Okay. So you have three and a half friends.”

 

“Number One totally counts.”

 

“No she doesn’t.”

 

Jim pouts for a second, then breaks out into a grin. His teeth are fucked up— Sam doesn’t know why he notices that, but they are, likely due to malnutrition.

 

Tarsus sure did a number on his little brother.

 

Jim reaches out and slaps him on the shoulder. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to everybody. Gaila and Sybok are prepping for a battle of the bands.”

 

“Who’s Sybok?”

 

But Jim’s already walking away. His walk’s changed, too— he used to be looser with his movements. Now it’s almost stiff, and Sam’s not sure if it’s because of too much time around Vulcans or a leftover from Tarsus. He supposes it doesn’t matter. It’s not like he’ll ever know.

 

Jim leads him through the house (and it’s Jim now, not Jimmy. Apparently he doesn’t like it anymore) towards what would be considered a sunroom if not for its size. There are four Vulcans and an Orion situated on plush cushions, each one armed with an instrument.

 

“Guys, this is my brother Sam,” Jim announces as they enter. “Sam, this is my sister Gaila, my friend T’Pring and her boytoy Stonn, and over there’s Spock and Sybok, Spock’s big brother.”

 

Sam flashes a lazy, not quite correct ta’al.

 

“Hi.”

 

Gaila chirps a greeting back to him before double-checking the tuning of her weird banjo. The younger Vulcans all give him some version of the the Vulcan salute. The older one, though—

 

The older guy  _ smiles _ .

 

“Welcome, Sam,” he says brightly, like he didn’t get the memo about Vulcans and their thing about feelings. “Have a seat anywhere. We are testing our skills against the girls.”

 

“We’re gonna kick your butt, Sybok,” Gaila informs him. “Just you wait. We’ve been  _ practicing _ .”

 

“They have been,” Stonn informs the brothers mildly, fiddling with an instrument that reminds Sam vaguely of a xylophone. “I believe they have a chance.”

 

“That’s the spirit, Stonn,” Jim says cheerfully, plopping down beside Spock and leaning against the shoulder that doesn’t have a lyre propped against it and rubbing his face into the fabric of Spock’s robe— oh.  _ Oh _ .

 

Sam opens his mouth, then closes it again.

 

Looks like something came of Jim’s childhood crush after all.

 

Sam’s never going to hear the end of it.

 

Sighing to himself, he takes the seat beside Gaila, who grins and gives him a one-armed hug around her banjo.

 

“Nice to meet you,” she says. “Now watch us rip these boys to shreds.”

 

“... Cool.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


The music isn’t that awful, actually, considering it’s all played on Vulcan instruments.

 

Sam and Jim almost piss themselves laughing when the girls bust out with ‘Rainbow Connection’, which almost makes up for all the Vulcan meditation music before that.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Sybok comes up to him after the kids decide to walk T’Pring and Stonn home.

 

“You caught it in seconds,” he remarks as Sam takes in the frankly stunning view from the back garden.

 

“Caught what?”

 

“My brother and your brother.” Sybok takes the seat beside him, kicking out his legs into a lazy sprawl. “You’re probably the fastest yet.”

 

“You’re a weird Vulcan.” Using contractions and shit, what the hell was that?

 

Sybok chuckles.

 

“Yeah, I am.” He runs a hand through his long hair. “So. How do you feel about it?”

 

Sam shrugs.

 

“Jim’s had a crush on Spock as long as they’ve known each other,” he says. “And it’s his way to get his way.”

 

Sybok arches an eyebrow.

 

“As long as they’ve known each other?” he repeats. “Damn, I guess we didn’t catch it then.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“I’m writing my dissertation on their relationship,” Sybok explains. “They’ve got a bond, you know.”

 

“Oh.” Sam pauses. “You’re still in school?”

 

“Oh, yeah. I’ve probably got another few years before I truly complete my studies. You?”

 

“I’m going to be starting junior year in a few months.”

 

“Oh, good, you can drink.” Sybok reaches into the folds of his robes and brings out a bottle of some sort of chocolate liqueur and two cups. “Double whammy— good for Vulcans and Humans.”

 

Sam snorts.

 

“Where the hell’d you get that?”

 

“You’d be surprised what Vulcan students get up to when they have the time,” Sybok says simply, uncapping the bottle and pouring its contents into the cups . He hands one to Sam and raises his own.

 

“To our smitten brothers.”

 

“Let’s hope it lasts.”

 

“Oh, it will.” Sybok knocks back his drink like he’s been practicing, and Sam follows him a second later, taking a moment to appreciate the sweetness before Sybok refills his glass.

 

Sam gets the feeling they’re going to be there for a while.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Jim’s birthday is a quiet affair, considering all the Vulcans in attendance. Sam doesn’t know how the kid survived the last year without bacon, but he figures that has something to do with the fact that Lady Amanda is a  _ phenomenal _ cook.

 

Seriously, if Sam’s mother could cook like this as opposed to the charred stuff she calls food, Sam might have stuck around the  _ Farragut _ an extra year.

 

There’s a feeling of… family, a feeling that Sam hasn’t ever really experienced— at least, not where the Kirks were involved. They were never really the sort of people that were filled with warm, fuzzy feelings for each other, though they were rather territorial. Here and now, though, even Sarek seems warm, offering Jim a small gift when he finally arrives home after a meeting with the council. He seems a little put off by the hug he gets in return, but he takes it with surprising grace.

 

By the end of it all, Jim ends up with an instrument of his own— something similar to a pan flute— from T’Pring, a book from Stonn, two small, ceremonial tea glasses from Sarek and Amanda that appear to be stamped with their family seal, a somewhat clumsily-sewn pillow from Gaila made from some sort of ultra soft, gauzy Vulcan silk, and a pendant from Spock that immediately finds its place around Jim’s neck, blue-green stone tucked safely under the fabric of his shirt.

 

(Sam tries not to stare when he catches the look on Amanda’s face after Jim unwraps that particular gift. Whatever the significance of that particular gemstone, the evil in her eyes is not worth questioning.)

 

Sam didn’t bring a gift, really, just a replacement holoplayer for the one Jim lost. Still, Jim acts like he gave him the galaxy in a bottle.

 

(“It feels weird, having Mommy’s,” Jim explains quietly as he transfers over the relevant files later that night. “Like… like I don’t have anything that’s mine yet.”)

 

Sam doesn’t really get that, but whatever, Jim’s happy, and when Jim’s happy, shit doesn’t blow up.

  
That’s all he really asks for.


	7. Chapter 7

“Hey, Sybok, have you seen the kids?”

 

“I enjoy that you call them kids, considering I’m nearly ten years your senior.” Sybok looks up and frowns. “What’s wrong?”

 

Sam chews his lip, tucking his comm away into the pocket of his jeans.

 

“Mommy just sent me a message,” he says carefully. “The  _ Farragut _ will be in orbit in ten days. Jim has the option of joining the crew again— but if he doesn’t go with them, it’s another three years planetside.”

 

Sybok arches an eyebrow.

 

“Jim is not meant to be planetside,” he says after a moment.

 

“What, has he mentioned something?”

 

The Vulcan shakes his head.

 

“He’s become restless since regaining his strength,” he explains. “The trip to Vulcana Regar was an attempt to assuage his wandering tendencies.”

 

“He won’t be happy to be separated from Spock,” Sam says. “I don’t think Spock’ll be too happy, either.”

 

“You’re correct.”

 

“But he won’t want to stay planetside any longer.” Sam frowns. “But he won’t want to leave, either.”

 

Sybok sighs.

 

“He will have to decide for himself. That is the only way this can be resolved.”

 

“... This is gonna suck.”

 

“Oh, yeah.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


Jim sits quietly, pressed against Spock’s side. Gaila’s out at T’Pring’s again, so it’s only the pair of them.

 

Jim hasn’t looked so somber in the entire time since Sam beamed down. His fingers play across the inside of Spock’s wrist and palm and whoa, Sam was not ready to see that.

 

“I miss the ship,” he admits quietly, looking at Spock. “Sorry.”

 

“Do not apologize. We both knew you could not remain here forever.” Spock tilts his head. “Captain Pike has likely become complacent without your antagonistic tendencies.”

 

Sam never thought he’d hear a Vulcan try and lighten the mood.

 

Jim snorts.

 

“Antagonistic tendencies… did you just insult me?”

 

“If you choose to read my statement as such, I cannot stop you,” Spock says simply. “You must return home eventually. I am sure your mother would like to see you well.”

 

“... Probably.” Jim looks at Sam. “Are you coming, too?”

 

Sam shakes his head.

 

“If you return to the  _ Farragut _ , I’m going to take Gaila back to Earth,” Sam says. “Then I’m heading back to school— the travel time from Earth to Beta III would put me back on the planet a week before school.”

 

“Oh.” Jim sighs. “Okay. Tell Mommy I’m coming.”

 

“You sure?”

 

Jim looks at Spock. Spock seems calm to Sam, but it’s obvious something isn’t right, judging by the face Jim makes.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Sam nods.

 

“Alright. I’ll tell Mommy.”

 

Jim doesn’t answer, curling into Spock and closing his eyes. Sybok tugs at Sam’s arm, hand gentle against his bare elbow, carefully leading him away from their brothers.

 

“This is going to suck,” Sam mutters once they’re out of earshot. “This is really gonna suck.”

 

“You already said that, Sam.”

 

“Oh, maybe I should reiterate— this is really,  _ really _ going to suck.” Sam runs a hand through his honey hair. “I’ve never seen Jim lovesick— do you even know what that might mean? People are gonna  _ die _ , Sybok, all because the brat had to choose between his boyfriend and  _ space _ .”

 

“I doubt Jim will actually commit murder.”

 

“It won’t be on purpose— it’ll be an  _ accident _ , and that will be  _ worse _ .”

 

Sybok sighs.

 

“You have a gift for hyperbole, Sam. Everything will be fine.”

 

Yeah. Sure it will.

  
  


*.*

  
  


After the initial melancholy, Jim seems to be fine. He smiles brightly and laughs, poking fun at Stonn’s taciturn persona and tugging at Sybok’s wispy beard.

 

And then, it’s the night before departure— the last movie night on Vulcan.

 

At least, that’s what Sam and Sybok stumble into.

 

The last ten minutes of  _ Straight Outta Compton _ are on the holoplayer, which catches Sybok by surprise.

 

“What are you watching?” he asks, staring at the screen curiously.

 

“We can’t tell you,” Jim informs him, shoving a handful of berries into his mouth.

 

Sybok arches an eyebrow.

 

“Why not?”

 

“We don’t talk about Film Club.”

 

Sybok’s head whips around to Sam who nods serenely. “It’s the first rule.”

 

“That is a reference,” T’Pring informs the room. “Jim is fond of them.”

 

“I don’t recognize it, though,” Gaila says. “What’s the movie?”

 

Jim pauses, mouth open mid-chew.

 

“Have— have I not shown you guys  _ Fight Club _ ?”

 

Blank stares, all around. He shakes his head disbelievingly.

 

“Oh, wow, how did I skip over  _ that _ very important moment of cinematic history?” He drags the holoplayer towards him and flicks to the menu screen. “T’Pring, I think you’ll like this one— Brad Pitt’s in it again.”

 

“He is pleasing,” T’Pring agrees, eyes sliding half-shut. “I will accept a viewing of this film.”

 

Jim grins.

 

“You’re the best— Sybok, sit down, you need to watch this. Sam, will you stick around?”

 

Sam thinks about it. Fight Club was one of those movies Jim used to play on loop— he knows every line. They echo through his dreams.

 

But, he’s probably not going to see Jim again for a very long time.

 

“Yeah, fine.” He takes the seat next to Sybok. “One more time won’t hurt.”

 

“This movie’s too good for just one more time, you heathen.”

 

Sam rolls his eyes but doesn’t comment, because the movie’s on. You don’t talk when Jim’s watching movies.

 

That’s rule number three of Film Club.

  
  


*.*

  
  


The cap is gone when Jim wakes up the next morning. It’s been there so long Jim almost doesn’t recognize the feeling of Spock’s thoughts intermingling with his own.

 

They cling, a mixture of  _ please do not go _ and  _ I will miss you _ .

 

“James.”

 

Jim looks up. Spock’s eyes are sorrowful, like he doesn’t really want Jim to know exactly how poorly he’s taking this.

 

“I will return again, Spock,” Jim whispers in Vulcan, one hand reaching up to brush an even lock of hair back behind his ear. He’s going to miss Spock’s bed head— the moment of imperfection makes waking up too hot in the mornings squished between a sweaty Orion and a stiff Vulcan worth it.

 

“I know.”  _ That does not make parting with you any easier _ .

 

“I am sorry.”

 

“Do not be. I know where you belong.”

 

“With you by my side.”

 

“Perhaps one day.”

 

Jim can see it already— acting as Chief Engineer or Chief Science Officer on a Starfleet ship, ferrying Ambassador Spock from planet to planet in an effort to bring peace to the galaxy.

 

Yeah. That’s a nice thought.

 

Spock seems to think so, too. Jim feels the warmth of his thoughts all the way to his toes.

 

He kisses him.

 

Surprise floods through the link, pleased and confused and  _ what-the-hell _ all at once.

 

Jim pulls back, just to get a look at his face.

 

Spock blinks owlishly down at him. There’s a green blush forming across the bridge of his nose and the tips of his ears.

 

He’s adorable.

 

“James,” he murmurs. “This is not perhaps the best decision. You recall I am bonded—”

 

_ Seriously? _ Jim shakes his head.

 

“Whoever you’re bonded to isn’t going to mind, Spock, I’m sure of it,” he says. “I mean, you say that they haven’t shown up yet, right? It isn’t so surprising that you experiment with other people if whoever it is you’re bonded with can’t be bothered to stop by and say hello.”

 

_ If only he knew. _

 

“Vulcans do not…  _ experiment _ .”

 

“You guys are scientists, aren’t you?” Jim grins. “You experiment all the time.”

 

Spock opens his mouth to answer. Jim kisses him again, long enough that he sees spots when he pulls back to breathe.

 

“... Just, let it go, okay?” Jim says softly, bowing his head so he can press his nose into a long, green neck. “Let me have this. I won’t see you again for a long time.”

 

Spock closes his mouth.

 

“Very well, Jim,” he agrees. “I will… ‘let it go’.”

 

Gaila pops her head up from behind Jim.

 

“ _ Can’t hold it back anymore _ !”

 

Jim groans.

 

“I should never have played you  _ Frozen _ ,” he grunts, sitting up.

 

Gaila grins.

 

“Yeah, well, it’s a good song.”

 

“It’s an irritating song— how long have you been awake, anyway?”

 

“Only like, a minute.” She’s lying, Jim knows. She probably heard the whole thing. “Come on, let’s go get breakfast. Last day of the veggie fair for you, brother.”

 

Jim makes a noise that shouldn’t be heard outside of an adult holofilm.

 

“Oh my God, I want a cheeseburger so bad it isn’t even  _ funny _ , Gaila,” he says as he gets to his feet. “Spock, come on— last day on Vulcan, and all that jazz, right?”

 

Spock stares, then nods.

 

“I will be out shortly,” he agrees. “James?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I did not mind your… experiment.”

 

Jim’s mind has always had similar qualities to a star— at least, that is what Spock has always observed. Every grin, every joke, every clumsy attempt at cultural exchange draws Spock to him, warms him. But at this moment, with that silly grin and overflow of happiness, he outshines even Vulcan’s sun.

  
No, Spock does not mind nearly as much as he should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, it's bittersweet. But it's no where near the end.
> 
> Want to harass the authors? Stalk us on Tumblr:  
> @freyja-not-freya  
> @straight-outta-hobbiton

**Author's Note:**

> The playlist for this fic can be found [here.](https://8tracks.com/starhobbit/we-don-t-talk-about-film-club#smart_id=dj:16203706)
> 
> Follow [not-freyja](https://not-freyja.tumblr.com) and [straight-outta-hobbiton](https://straight-outta-hobbiton.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.


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